Fray
by Flitz
Summary: Spider-Man and Venom hash out their issues with a little help from SAFE sponsored therapy.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, or the related people and places. Marvel does. **

**A/N: I tend to meld verses to suit myself, but I would consider this most strongly book and comics, pretty much ignoring the movies. **

Chapter 1

"Spider-Man."

"So what's up Morgan? I can't believe you'd travel all the way out to the Big Apple just to see lil' ol' me."

Colonel Sean Morgan levered his stare at Spider-Man. They'd worked well together on the Sinister Six threat last year, but Morgan's opinion of Spider-Man's professionalism hadn't heightened much in the meantime.

"I'm here on official business," he paused for effect. "We've captured Venom."

"Wow, that's…wow," Spider-Man said running a hand over his web-covered head. "Good for you Morgan. No offense, but how'd you manage that one?"

"None taken. The Hulk did most of the work for us this time."

"What, you got the Hulk on retainer now too? You are moving up in the world."

"We arrived late on the scene, but suffice it to say, your friend was on the losing end of that fight."

Spider-Man whistled, he'd have loved to see that fight – from a safe distance of course. The Hulk was no one to mess with, especially considering the super-intelligent Banner was in control of the Hulk form these days. However, Venom was far from a light-weight.

Between the abilities adopted from the original wearer of the symbiont and Brocks' crazy bloodlust Venom had chomped his way into Spider-Man's, and the nation's, top 10 things to never find in a dark alley.

Venom's only weaknesses being fire and sonics, it wasn't hard to figure out how Banner brought him down. Besides the sheer size and strength advantage, Banner could create vicious sound-waves with the minimal effort of clapping his hands.

"Well Morgan," Spider-Man said, "I'd say he's no friend of mine, but you already know that. Let's cut to the chase and see how this warrants a visit to me from the head of SAFE. Unless of course this is a social call and you wanted to drop by with the good news, in which case, bust out the party mix."

"Hardly. He's requested to see you."

"Banner?" Spider-Man asked genuinely surprised. "What's he got cookin'?"

"No, not Banner. Venom. Or more precisely the psychiatrist in charge of Venom's case."

The web-crawler blinked under his mask and held up an index finger.

"You want to run that by me one more time?"

"You heard me Spider-Man," Morgan said. "The psychiatrist thinks it would beneficial to bring you into the process, considering you're the focus of a lot of his neurosis."

Spider-Man took a moment to reply looking out over rows of tarred rooftops. The idea was ridiculous – he could just see it now, him and Venom on matching couches as a quack with a clipboard made 'hum' noises.

Even if it didn't involve Venom, Spider-Man very much doubted he'd hang out around a psychiatrist's office. His experience with that particular profession had been nothing short of horrendous. More often than not, psychologists read traps in his Spider-book. The unwelcome remembrances washed over him, leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth outmatching any of the psychotropics that'd been foisted on him over the years.

"So, how did you end up messenger-boy, Morgan?" Spider-Man asked turning to face him, voice brittle.

Morgan didn't seem perturbed by the sudden mood shift in the normally jocular costumed adventurer.

"Somehow they didn't think you'd be likely to listen to anyone else right about now," he said.

Spider-Man nodded. The city seemed ready to hype into another rousing round of the 'I hate Spidey' campaign, only this time he wasn't sure what caused it. Maybe someone caught him jay-walking, Spider-Man thought morosely.

"As fun as this has been Spider-Man, I do have other matters that require my attention. What are your thoughts – are you willing to get on-board?"

"On-board where exactly?"

"Currently, Venom is being held at the Vault."

Spider-Man threw up his hands and laughed.

"Of course, the Vault. Do you honestly expect me to waltz into one of the highest security prisons in the world and to not worry about them suddenly deciding they'd like to keep a certain Spider inside the gates? This is a golden opportunity for them."

"If you agree I can authorize a transfer to move Venom to the Heli-carrier."

"As if that's much better," Spider-Man said.

"You didn't seem to have trouble with it before," Morgan commented.

Spider-Man shrugged and leaned back against the roof's high precipice.

"Your thoughts, Morgan?" Spider-Man parroted.

The Colonel's expression soured, his lip curling up.

"I think Venom is a mass murderer and one of the greatest threats to national security no matter his claims at reforming. And, I think any possible path to neutralizing that threat should be explored, no matter how obtuse it may seem… In other words Spider-Man, I wouldn't be here wasting my breath nor would I offer the continued use of my heli-carrier unless I thought there was something to gain," Morgan said.

Spider-Man let his head drop into his hands only barely able to restrain the urge to massage out the headache he knew was building. There were simply too many factors to consider to give the leader of SAFE a definitive answer.

"I'll get back to ya Morgan, you have to realize it's a big decision. Venom's never been my number one fan, and I'm not sure I want to hitch my wagon to his truck full of crazy."

"Understood. You have 48 hours to give me your answer. Do you still have the signaler we issued you?" Morgan questioned.

Spider-Man colored under his mask, "Oh, yeah…I sorta pitched that lil' bugger. I wasn't positive you couldn't track it somehow. You know what they say, safety first."

Morgan ill-temperedly drew another signaling device identical to the last out of a vest pocket.

"Try not to lose this one, these things do cost the taxpayer's money you know."

"Right," Spider-Man said, casting out a web-line and swinging away amongst the city's towering structures, "48 hours. Man, wait til MJ hears this one!"

"Parker!" rang out over the hub-bub of the Daily Bugle's newsroom.

Peter, intrepid photog, said a quick goodbye to Urich and headed to Jonah's office sidestepping debris that might have once had some sort of organization, but now looked as though some giant had taken the entire building in its hand and shook up the contents, desks, file boxes, and paper waste settling about randomly.

Although, considering the adventures the poor Bugle building had been through, a giant with a sloppy hand at decorating was the least of its worries.

"You bellowed Jonah?" Peter asked, sticking his head into the private office of its publisher, morning light glinting of the numerous skyscrapers visible from his 12 foot window.

"Parker, about time! What is this crap?" he asked belligerently lofting up a stack of photographs Peter knew to be his own.

"Uh, picture of Spider-Man stopping that mugging in the Old West End, uh…and other one of – "

"Parker. Shut up. I'll tell you what this is. It's unusable. It's crap. It's worse than crap. The city wants to see pictures of Spider-Man doing something under-handed not parading around helping kittens out of trees."

"What do you want me to do, Mr. Jameson? You told me to get pics of Spider-Man, that's what I got. He's not doing anything under-handed."

"Ah, at least not that he lets you see. Keep digging Parker, and don't come back until you get something decent!"

JJ grabbed for yet another cigar from his desk drawer and Peter took it as his signal to leave. He pulled Jameson's door shut with a heavy click, no reason to pollute the air for the rest of the Bugle employees.

Peter wandered over to the break room and pilfered a bagel, passing on cream cheese that looked more green than white. It had been a waste of money to print up those pictures, all at his own expense no less – the joys of freelance. Hopefully, Mary Jane had better luck on her job hunt than her husband had. Peter had been more than distracted lately with the timeline hanging over his head. He was coming down to the wire on this one and he still wasn't sure what his answer should be.

From his conversation with Mary Jane last night, she was against it at all costs.

"What good is it going to do Tiger?' she asked. You've always said Venom was beyond insufferable, and now you're actually considering playing Dr. Phil with him? I don't know that you can trust these guys Peter, it could be a trap."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" Peter returned.

"Don't snap at me Peter, I'm trying to help," Mary Jane said. "You asked my opinion and I'm giving it to you. The idea is insane. Venom's insane, and you're crazy if you're even thinking about doing this. Why on earth would you put yourself in that position?"

Peter looked up guiltily from the couch.

"Oh Peter, not that again!" she said rolling her eyes. "You are not responsible for everything goes bump in the night, up to and including Venom's mental health."

"MJ, Venom is my responsibility, heck I created him. I'm the one that brought the symbiont to Earth in the first place. I have a duty to clean up after myself, and if SAFE thinks this could possibly help…well it'd be one huge weight off my shoulders."

"If it worked," MJ said quietly. "I still don't like this."

Peter drew his wife into his arms, "Look, I'm not jumping with joy about this – shrinks and Venom – stuff of nightmares to be sure. But if there's a chance, not matter how slight, that Venom can be stopped or cured, I have to take it. He has taken steps over the years, maybe he can expand his definition of innocents a little more and stop killing who he considers to be guilty."

"Do you really think that's possible?"

"I don't know, probably not," he said, his shoulders dropping.

"You have enough worries on your own Peter, I don't think you should stretch yourself so thin…but it's your decision to make Peter."

The part-time photographer, full-time super-hero shook himself back into the present. The bagel was probably too stale to eat anyway, maybe he could look into using it as a shield the next time Shocker came into town. Peter tossed it down half-smirking at the clunk as it hit the plate. No more stalling, he had a call to make.

Half-way across town, Peter Parker changed into his Spider-duds, activated the beacon and waited to hear from SAFE.

A small light flashed and a crackle came over the built in speaker.

"Spider-Man?"

"Present. Hey Deeley is that you?" Spider-Man asked, glad to hear a friendly voice. Doug Deeley was the paranormal liaison to SAFE and for once, a government agent that had a sense of humor.

"Present," Deeley mimicked. "So will I be seeing you around the water cooler?"

Spider-Man swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

"Spidey?" Deeley prompted after a protracted silence.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there. Make sure you have regular little cups though, I hate those little pointed ones, it just makes me sad that there's no sno-cones."

"Great, I'll inform everybody up here. How do you feel about Wednesdays at two?"

"Huh," Spider-Man said unintelligibly.

"First session, Wednesday at two p.m., that work for you? The Colonel had a feeling you'd say yes and he took the liberty of scheduling the first session. Venom's being transferred in the morning. Do you want a different time? It's not like Venom is going anywhere, we can schedule around you."

"No, uh, Wednesday is fine," Spider-Man said, slightly stunned.

"Alright, looking forward to it web-head."

"Yeah, I'm all a flutter down here too."

"See ya soon," Deeley said signing out.

"Sure, Spider-Man out, er, over," he said tossing the beacon into his a pouch in his belt. Spider-Man leapt atop an air conditioning vent in a graceful arc and faced the setting sun. He rubbed a hand over his chin. "Man, oh, man Spidey, what did you just get yourself into?"


End file.
